Spells

“Would you like to wear it, or shall I wrap it in a box?”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“You should,” Tamani said quietly. “It looks lovely.”

“But I…” She stepped around the tall shopkeeper and stood close to Tamani. “I have nothing to pay for it, and I’m certainly not going to let you pay for it.”

Tamani laughed quietly. “You don’t pay for goods here, Laurel. That’s a very…human thing. Take it. He’ll be complimented that you like his work.”

Laurel glanced at the shopkeeper hovering just out of earshot. “Really?”

“Yes. Tell him it pleases you and that you’ll wear it to the Academy; that’s all the payment he wants.”

It was all so unbelievable. Laurel felt nervous, momentarily unable to overcome her certainty that, any second now, a security faerie was going to pop out and arrest her. But Tamani wouldn’t pull a trick like that on her…would he?

She took one more look in the mirror, then smiled at the tall faerie, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “It’s really, really beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to wear it back to the Academy, if I may.” The faerie beamed at her and made a slight bow. Laurel hesitantly began to walk away.

No one stopped her.

It was a few minutes before Laurel got over the feeling she’d just stolen something. She started paying attention to the other browsers and many of them also removed items from the displays and kiosks without giving anything in return but compliments and gratitude. After several minutes of observing other “shoppers”, she forced herself to calm down.

“We should get something for you,” she said, turning to Tamani.

“Oh, no. Not me. I don’t shop here. My market square is down the hill a little farther.”

“Then what’s this?”

“This is Summer Square.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, panicking again. “But I’m a Fall. I shouldn’t have gotten this.”

Tamani laughed. “No, no, Winter and Fall faeries shop where they like. There are too few of them to have their own square.”

“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “So could I shop in your square too?”

“I guess you could, but I don’t know why you’d want to.”

“Why not?”

Tamani shrugged. “It’s not pretty like the Summer Square. I mean, the square’s pretty; everything in Avalon is beautiful. But we don’t need trinkets and decor. We need clothing, food, and the tools of our many trades. I get my weapons there as well as the elixirs and potions I need for my sentry kits – those things are sent down from the Academy. The Summer faeries need the flashy things; it’s part of their trade. Those in the theatre, especially. But if you look closer, particularly in some of the inside shops, you’ll find the more technical supplies. Paints and equipment for scenery, musical instruments, jewellery-making tools – that kind of thing.” He grinned. “The kiosks have all the sparkles and such in them so they catch the sun and draw more shoppers.”

They both laughed and Laurel reached up to touch the new hair comb. She wondered briefly what it would be worth back in California, and then dismissed the thought. It was nothing she’d ever sell, so it didn’t matter.

The crowd was thinning as they walked farther from the marketplace. The broad earthen road was lined with houses now, and Laurel glanced from side to side in wonder. Each dwelling was made entirely of the same kind of sugar-glass that formed the picture window in Laurel’s own room. The larger translucent orbs that opened out into the street were obviously living rooms; the slightly smaller pastel-tinged bubbles clustered on the sides and back Laurel suspected were bedrooms. Enormous curtains of pastel-coloured silk were tucked behind each dwelling, allowing the sun to shine more brightly into the remarkable buildings, but Laurel saw how they could be draped over the glass for privacy at night. Each house sparkled in the sun, and many were decorated with strings of crystals and prisms catching the light and making it dance, just like the prisms Laurel had in her room back home. The whole neighbourhood shimmered so brightly it was almost hard to look at, and Laurel realised that these were the “balloons” she’d seen from farther up the hill when she’d first arrived with Jamison. “They’re so pretty,” she mused.

“Indeed. I love to walk up through the Summer neighbourhoods.”

The sparkling dwellings began to space out, and soon Laurel and Tamani were walking downhill again. The wide road cut through a meadow of clover with patches of flowers here and there; Laurel had only seen such meadows in movies. And even though she’d gotten used to the air in Avalon – always fragrant with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers – it was stronger out here, where the wind could freely carry each scent as it caressed her face. Laurel breathed in deeply, enjoying the invigorating breeze.

She paused when she realised Tamani wasn’t beside her any more. She glanced back. He was crouched by the side of the path, wiping his hands on the cushiony clover. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Tamani sprang to his feet, looking sheepish. “I – um, forgot my gloves,” he said quietly.

Laurel was confused for a second, then noticed that the clover looked a little sparkly. “You wear gloves to cover the pollen?” she guessed.

“It’s polite,” he said, clearing his throat.

Laurel thought back and realised that all the men in Summer Square had been wearing gloves. It made sense now. She hurried to change the subject to rescue Tamani from his obvious discomfort. “So what next?” she asked, her hand at her forehead, blocking the sun so she could see what lay farther down the road.

“I’m taking you to my favourite place in all of Avalon.”

“Really?” Laurel said, excitement causing her to forget, momentarily, that she’d asked to be surprised. “Where?”

He smiled softly. “My home. I want you to meet my mother.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_fc724580-4dfe-5924-8724-d8195a24c99a)

A chill rippled up Laurel’s back as nervousness and confusion battled for control. “Your mother?”

“Is…that all right?”

“You told me faeries didn’t have mothers.”

Tamani opened his mouth and then closed it again, his brow furrowing – the look he always got when he was caught in a half-truth. “I never actually said faeries don’t have mothers,” he said slowly. “I said things are different here. And they are.”

“But you – I…I just assumed that since, you know, faeries come from seeds – you said you take care of yourselves!” she demanded, a little angry now.

“We do,” Tamani said, trying to appease her. “I mean, mostly. Mothering is not quite the same here as it is in the human world.”

“But you have a mother?”

He nodded, and she could tell he knew what was coming next.

“Do I have a mother? A faerie one, I mean?”

He was silent for a moment, and Laurel could see he didn’t want to say it. Finally he shrugged, a tiny, almost invisible shrug, and shook his head.

Shock and disappointment surged through her. It didn’t help that, despite the tension at home, she missed her mom acutely and was feeling more than a little homesick. Tears threatened, but Laurel refused to let them come. She spun on her heel and continued walking down the hill, glad there wasn’t anyone close by. “Why not?” she asked peevishly.

“You just don’t.”

“But you do. Why do you have one?” She knew she sounded childish and petulant, but she didn’t care.

“Because I’m not a Fall or Winter faerie.”

Laurel stopped and turned back to Tamani. “So? Are we born differently?”

Tamani shook his head.